


Spent Shells: HiruMamo drabbles

by Witchy1ness



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: Adult Content, Drabbles, F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27140167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchy1ness/pseuds/Witchy1ness
Summary: Just random bits of HiruMamo that wound up going nowhere.
Relationships: Anezaki Mamori/Hiruma Youichi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Rumours

**Author's Note:**

> Took a browse through my Dead Fics folder and found some bits I figured were decent enough to post, haha. I don't have a clue anymore where/when in the series these snippets are supposed to take place (if they do at all lol), so fair warning? These were all written in 2010, so they ooooold. 
> 
> Drabbles range from G to M rating, but I'll mark the M one at the beginning so you can skip that one if you'd prefer :)
> 
> None of these characters belong to me (except for Akina!), but to Riichiro Inagaki and Yusuke Murata, I'm just borrowing them!

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“Oi, fucking manager. What the hell are you doing out here? Aren’t you worried about giving people more fodder for those rumours you’ve been stressing over?”

Mamori turned a suspiciously sweet smile on the instantly wary blonde.

“You were right after all, Hiruma-kun.”

Hiruma narrowed his gaze as warning bells went off.

Mamori’s sunny smile didn’t change, although her eyes held a suspicious gleam.

“Because really, after thinking about it, I shouldn’t care what other people say because I know the truth.”

She turned back towards the railing, and the two teenagers stood in uneasy silence for a few minutes.

“I think I’ll turn in now. Goodnight, Hiruma-kun.”

The girl pushed back against the railing and began to walk to her cabin, but paused when she reached the corner.

“Besides, Hiruma-kun,” and now her smile had turned triumphant. “I only need to start worrying about the rumours when the ones about you and me _outstrip_ the ones about you and Musashi- _kun_.”

“WHAT THE _FUCK_?!?!”

Hidden around the corner, Musashi quickly clapped a hand over his mouth to keep his chuckles from escaping.

Not that it really mattered.

After her little bomb, Mamori had vanished around the corner like quicksilver, her laughter trailing behind to lure the enraged blonde-haired demon who quickly chased after her demanding names.

 _S_ _till, it’s surprising that Hiruma hadn’t heard those rumours_. _I mean, even **I’ve** heard them._

Not that they bothered the kicker. It had made him stop and consider how outsiders may have viewed his and Hiruma’s supposed relationship – helped by Suzuna ever-so-helpfully clarifying _why_ people thought that – but really, maybe this would teach Hiruma to practice what he preached.

The sound of automatic gunfire split the night, along with a laughing shriek, and Musashi didn’t bother hiding his amusement this time.

Or maybe not. 

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	2. Good Girls and Bad Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is gonna sound really, really weird, but I am honestly not sure I wrote this? Re-reading things I got a vague memory of possibly saving this fic as a Word doc because that was my version of 'bookmarking' back in the 90s (with no identifying info, natch). On the other hand, this was in the middle of a document that had a bunch of bits that I *did* write, so maybe I just have a screwy memory. 
> 
> So full disclaimer: this chapter may not be written by me, and if anyone can confirm that, please let me know, as my Internet searches have turned up nada.

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Mamori has always been the good girl.

Always got straight A’s, nice to everyone, and never talked back to her mother.

She hated cursing, considered it uncouth and unnecessary.

She hated violence as well, despite the fact that in condemning it she could be violent as well (she had forever been driving off bullies after Sena, and she had never touched a mop so much in her life as she had in these past few months).

She was the darling of the teachers, a Disciplinary Committee student…and yet none of it explained why, lately, she’d catch herself looking at him and wanting nothing else except for him to be inside her.

Which was shocking, to say the least.

Girls like her shouldn’t be thinking about sex, never mind whom they’d want to do it with.

Maybe what her girlfriends had said was true: it wasn’t that Hiruma was attractive _per se_ (though she secretly disagreed with them on that point) but that his attitude was attractive.

It was the old clichéd ‘good girl meets bad boy and wants to change him for the better’ scenario.

Only it wasn’t, because she didn’t want to change him.

Maybe it was for the opposite, she was hoping he’d change her, give her something she actually wanted for herself and not to please someone else.

Even when she’d rather die then admit it to anyone.

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Hiruma has always been the bad boy.

Sneaking out when he should’ve been home, sneaking in where he shouldn’t have gone in the first place.

He loves guns and gambling and winning and taking risks, and he thinks maybe that’s where she comes in. 

Ironic, perhaps, that the resident ‘devil’ and ‘angel’ should end up working together, coerced into a working relationship because of her wish to keep that little ‘mortal’ safe.

And he hates it sometimes that everyone continues to claim that she’s perfect, because he knows she’s not. It builds inside him until the urge to do _something_ ; to strip away that perfection and show them she’s just as susceptible to damnation, nearly overwhelms him.

And through it all he’s convinced she’s oblivious – that slight suspicion when he handed her the instructions not forgotten - until he’s flat on his back and struggling to get up, and she firmly tells him he’s not going anywhere and yet helps him dress all the same.

And even through the nausea and the fire in his arm can he tell her fingers are lingering just a little longer then necessary. The way she tucks his shirt in, or how she touches his ears as she places his pads on; the way her fingers drift over his sides as she fastens the buckles; the way her hands seem to caress his arms as she draws his jersey over them. Even though his body is convinced that all it wants to do is lay down and _die,_ watching her adjust his waistband has him suddenly, irrationally wishing she’d move a little lower.

And even though he can barely stand, he can’t stop the flash of heat that runs through him when she has to stand on tiptoes and lean full-length against him to fasten his helmet. And he’s _still_ convinced she’s oblivious, until her eyes catch his as her arms drop to her sides, and he can see pain and tears and everything she’s kept inside. 

As he walks back onto the field he wonders: was she the only one oblivious?

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	3. I Wonder as You Wander

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Sometimes Mamori wonders what it would be like, with him.

What would it be like, to be the one he came home to every night?

Would he still be the same loud, arrogant, overbearing tyrant, or would he finally drop his shield, his mask, his guard, and let her in?

Would there be soft words and butterfly touches, or hard kisses and frantic hands? (And sometimes she can’t decide if there has to be a choice).

Would there be laughter and ‘I love yous’ said out loud, or merely a silent grin and fingers that always seem to know exactly which way to push her buttons?

Would she be forever wrestling him away from weapons, or would he willingly lay them aside if he found something else worth holding?

Would she ever stop equating him with the smells of smoke and gunpowder, and instead realize he now smelled faintly of soap and talcum powder?

What would it be like, to hear him call her ‘Mamori,’ or even merely ‘Anezaki-san,’ to convince her that she actually wasn’t just a free source of labour?

Would she still help him back to his feet, even though her head and her heart and her everything told her that she shouldn’t?

One night, when she lay drifting between consciousness and sleep, she wondered…

…and realized she couldn’t remember when it was she started to care about the answers.

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	4. (Gun)smoke and Mirrors

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“Why didn’t you ever report me?” Musashi asked suddenly.

Conversation stopped as the players turned to look curiously at the kicker.

Musashi seemed unaware, keeping his gaze on the Deimon’s manager.

Mamori paused in her continuing tirade against the Deimon quarterback and his habit of firing off rounds in the clubhouse. Most of the players exchanged confused glances, but Mamori smiled and let out a little laugh as she sat back in her chair.

“Honestly? It was a case of the devil’s method being the lesser of two evils.”

Musashi switched his gaze to an indifferent seeming Hiurma.

“Oh?”

There was a whole conversation in that one little word, and Mamori’s smile softened as her gaze took on a distant look.

“Well, think about it. I can’t honestly believe I’m saying this – as a Discipline Committee member – but you were following all the proper steps to getting kicked out of school.”

Ears perked up as the younger members of the Devilbats football team finally understood what was going on.

“Smoking in the hallway – which, I might add, you were lousy at; wearing your work clothes instead of your school uniform – and don’t even get me started on how many issues we had with the female half of the school population over that. What do you think would’ve happened if I had reported you?”

Mamori ticked off the points on her fingers, “You would’ve been called before the Discipline Committee – where you no doubt would have done something to get yourself called before the principal – who would’ve had no choice but to expel you. I understand why you did what you thought you needed to at the time, bud did you ever think past the possibility of your dad getting better and your returning to school? It wouldn’t have been possible at Deimon. So you would have had to apply to another school, which may or may not have had a football team in the first place, and what? Go to the Christmas Bowl by defeating or being defeated by Hiruma- _kun_ and Kurita- _kun_?”

Mamori sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“At least Hiruma- _kun_ listing you as ‘suspended’ kept the door open for you should you ever be able to come back. It’s not like you could come back and pick up where you left off of course, but at least you had a second chance.”

Further thoughts were suspended as Mamori’s cell phone rang and she stepped outside to answer it.

Musashi leaned back in his chair and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“Kekeke. She can be fucking smart when she’s not stuffing her face with creampuffs, eh old man?”

Something in his friend’s voice caused the kicker to narrow his eyes.

“You mean it was her idea to have me listed as suspended?” he demanded.

While the rest of the team reacted in varying degrees of shock, Hiruma didn’t reply, but his shark-like grin was answer enough.

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	5. The Shortest Distance (is Less Scenic)

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Mamori once asked Sena how he decided which way to run on a football field.

The runningback had explained that when someone – or several someones - was coming at him, he could visualize all possible escape routes.

Since he obviously couldn’t go straight, he mostly tried to take the path that ‘looked’ the widest – as in, the path of least resistance.

Mamori had mentally sighed and verbally thanked him before allowing him to get back to practice before Hiruma got really violent.

It was funny, she reflected later at home, once practice was over, the players scraped off the field and the clubhouse cleaned, how unlike Sena Hiruma was in that regard.

Hiruma never took the path of least resistance, seemed to take a nearly masochistic pride in going the hard way.

And he never went straight.

‘The shortest distance between two points is a straight line’ is generally true, at least metaphorically, or when literally speaking of flat surfaces.

But Hiruma is neither a flat surface nor interested in doing things the way everyone else does. 

There were never any confessions or notes, but she knew.

Just like he knew, when she showed him her acceptance letter to Saikyoudai University.

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	6. Love Language

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Mamori sent a quick prayer skyward that Hiruma would be in a good mood as she chivvied the little girl along.

Her neighbour across the street had gone into early labour, and the frantic husband had dropped Akina-chan on her doorstep with a panicked ‘thank-you’ as she’d been on her way out to a practice game.

Her mother had already left for the day, so Mamori had had no choice but to take the kid with her.

The little girl’s brown eyes had fairly glowed as she had confided that she didn’t really like football – “The boys are so _rough_.” – but she really liked the Devil Bats, and it was so _cool_ that she could help out at one of their practice games, and that her mama was going to have a baby, and was it really ok that she could help out?

“Ne, Mamo-neechan, can I really help you today?”

“Yes, of course Akina-chan. It’s going to be a lot of running around though,” she warned as they walked onto the school grounds.

“That’s ok! I like running, and I’m even wearing my lucky sneakers.”

Her ‘lucky sneakers’ appeared to have once been red, but were now faded to a dull pink.

As they came in sight of the football field, Mamori took a deep breath as she caught sight of a #1 jersey. “Ne, Akina-chan, could you wait here a minute?”

“Ok!”

She left the little girl sitting at the top of the steps as she went to meet the now glaring quarterback.

Ten minutes later Mamori breathed a sigh of relief and discretely checked herself for holes. The way Hiruma-kun had glared at her ‘for bringing that fucking brat here,’ she wouldn’t have been surprised to find burn marks.

“Alright! Let’s get to work!”

Akina cheered as she jumped up, and Mamori set about introducing her to the curious team members before settling in to work.

The manager felt a smile stretch across her face as she surveyed the field. The game was going great, and Akina had turned into a big help.

She fetched footballs, towels, water bottles, and first aid kits – something Mamori normally would’ve had to do – which left the team manager able to keep her focus on observing the action on the field. 

The players were just getting into position when Mamori felt a tug on her shirt. She kept her eyes on the field as she answered, “What is it, Akina-chan?”

“Whatcha doing?”

“I’m signalling Hiruma-kun something I’ve noticed about the other team.”

The little girl’s eyes widened, “But doesn’t that mean the others are gonna know too?”

Her attention was still divided as Hiruma signalled back.

As she replied to his inquiry, she absently answered her charge. “No. Only Hiruma-kun and I can understand it.”

Akina was quiet for a few moments, which allowed Mamori to finish her task uninterrupted.

She let out a sigh and turned to Akina just in time to see a look of excitement pass across the seven year-old’s face. 

Monta dove, already envisioning the ball falling right into his outstretched hands.

Dimly in the background he could see Mamori making hand gestures, and a distant part of his mind wondered _‘I wonder what she’s signalling Hiruma-senpai?’_

He was so close; _almost there…_ all he had to do was tighten his fingers just a little bit…

“Wahhh! Teach me the language of love too, Mamo-neechan!”

…and watch the ball shoot completely out of his grasp.

Monta hit his knees in stunned silence, the task of recovering the fumble totally wiped from his mind.

Not that it mattered, as all activity on the field had halted at the little girl’s words.

“W-what?! Akina-chan you’ve got it –“

“My mama says that when two people really _really_ love each other, they can tell each other things without saying _anything_! _And_ they’re the only ones who can understand it, and that’s how Papa knows when he’s in trouble even though I can’t tell because all Mama does is stand there and –“

Completely mortified, Mamori quickly clapped a hand over the little girl’s mouth. It was bad enough she’d said what she did, but like all children, she had the uncanny knack of saying the most embarrassing things in the loudest voice, just when the action on the field had died down enough to carry her voice to the farthest reaches.

But it was too late; Mamori could already hear Doburoku-sensei snickering, and Suzuna-chan had a great big ‘I-told-you-so’ look on her face, and she would not, under _any_ circumstances, look out onto the field where a certain quarterback –

“Hey, fucking manager.”

\- had just come off.

Dreading, dreading, _dreading_ it, she hastily rearranged her face to show as little emotion as possible and only then turned around. Only to jerk back a step when Hiruma was suddenly a _lot_ closer then expected.

 _Here it comes_.

She mentally braced herself for whatever witty and/or sarcastic remark that was bound to fly from the blonde quarterback’s mouth, but Hiruma merely smirked, lips pulling back to reveal sharp teeth in a shark-like smile that did nothing for her nerves.

She stayed silent, praying, hoping that maybe, _maybe_ …

Mamori stayed braced, even as his grin got wider, and wider....

....and then he walked back onto the field like nothing had just happened, leaving her caught between over-whelming relief and total existential dread.

Because it meant that instead of the instant gratification of horrifying her further, Hiruma would carefully hold that trump card until it would be most beneficial for him.

"Mamonee-san?"

"It's alright, Akina-chan," she comforted automatically, even dredging up a smile for the worried-looking little girl.

Reassured, Akina went back to cheering the players, and Mamori dragged her head back into the game before Hiruma could yell at her for being distracted.

_I'm in so much trouble._

She couldn't wait till the players left. 

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	7. (Non)sense

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“What the fuck are you singing that for? It doesn’t even make sense.”

Mamori turned to scowl at Hiruma as he stepped forward. She really wasn’t up to dealing with the volatile quarterback right now.

“So what? Something doesn’t have to make sense for you to enjoy it. Besides, I think it sounds nice.”

Hiruma smirked and leaned over her, using – as he often did – his height in an attempt to intimidate her. Well, it wasn’t working this time, and she glared defiantly back at him.

“Fucking true.”

Mamori’s eyes narrowed, then shot wide open as Hiruma covered her mouth with his. Shock dropped her jaw and he was quick to take advantage, sweeping his tongue in past her lips and curling around hers.

The kiss went on and on, until he finally lifted his head and Mamori was distantly, perversely, happy that she wasn’t the only one out of breath.

She remained mute, staring wide-eyed up at the quarterback, distinctly aware of her tingling lips.

He just smirked and walked away, and it was only when she choked on his gum trying to call him back that Mamori realized how much trouble she was in.

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	8. Detour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M rating ahead!

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Abruptly, Hiruma accelerated, and a startled Mamori cinched her arms tight around his waist. As she instinctively pressed closer (and Mamori suspects that to be the real reason he loves doing it), she suddenly realized something she hadn’t taken much note of before. Despite having her hands in his pockets every time they went for a ride, she really hadn’t noticed how close in proximity that put her to a certain region of the ex-quarterback’s anatomy.

Mamori felt a blush creep up the back of her neck as her thoughts took a decidedly southern turn, but her disturbing train of thought was interrupted as Hiruma slowed when they neared the cove, and the muffled sounds of excited children met her ears.

Puzzled, she looked over his shoulder as they pulled up.

Apparently, this spot was a tourist attraction, and roughly twenty or so foreigners were crawling all around it.

Even through both helmets, she caught the curse Hiruma muttered. Immediately, visions of screaming tourists fleeing from a barrage of bullets flashed across her mind and she panicked.

She really, _really_ didn’t feel up to another Hiruma-spawned reign of terror today.

Later, she would swear (to herself anyway, because there was _no way on Earth_ she would ever, _ever_ mention this to anyone else) that she hadn’t even thought about it, she just did it, instinctively, because it had just been on her mind, and no, she was _not_ a pervert.

Before her vision of screaming tourists could become reality, she yanked her hands out of his pockets and dropped them between his legs, pushing against him with the heels of her hands.

He jerked his back straight so fast she said a silent thanks the bike was stopped.

Said bike quickly roared back to life, and he pulled a fast U-turn that had her reflexively grabbing him a little more firmly then she’d intended.

Mortified, she’d attempted to remove her hands, but before she could her _oh-my-god_ factor hit the roof when one hand caught hers before she could move them.

He left his there long enough for the message to burn itself into her numb brain, and then replaced his back on the handlebar.

Her mind was spinning so much she barely registered when he pulled into a little clearing they’d never been to before, parked the bike behind a cluster of trees and set the kickstand.

One blink later, he’d hauled her in front of him, and she was suddenly straddling both him and the bike.

Dazed, she could only sit motionless as Hiruma tore off first his, and then her, helmet.

Mamori’s mind began to fire just as he slanted his mouth over hers. She immediately forgot how to think again when she answered his hungry kiss. Which was alright with her, as it meant she didn’t have time to get embarrassed about how turned on she was.

He pushed her down against the gas tank, left arm cradling her back, the other hand already moving under her skirt. She broke the kiss as his fingers unerringly hit the spot between her legs that made her back arch.

They’d done this before, carefully treading the line but never pushing past.

Dimly, she thinks that it’s going to be different this time.

He was completely focussed on her, and typically, once he’d set his mind on something, he didn’t do it in half measures.

Unhesitatingly, his fingers pushed aside her underwear and into her. The sensation sent a shock up her spine that had her clutching her fingers in his hair and gasping into his mouth.

Her hips jerked and her inner muscles reflexively tightened, causing him to groan. She couldn’t hear anything after that, the blood rushing in her ears drowning out everything.

Her entire focus narrowed to the feel of his fingers moving inside her, and she ignored the part of her that was screaming this _was not a good idea!_

Then he brushed his thumb across the top of her slit, and the intense feeling doubled. He did it again and again and again, alternating between teasing brushes and hard pressure that made her slicker with every touch.

A tiny mewl escaped her throat when he eventually pulled the digits out, and the sounds of clinking metal and tearing plastic barely registered in her fogged mind.

She frantically slipped her hands under his suddenly untucked shirt and up onto his shoulder blades, arching her back desperately.

And then he was back, and it wasn’t his fingers pushing against her this time. He entered her slowly, causing her head to drop back over his arm.

Hiruma licked her throat and his left hand kneaded her breast as he slowly eased into her as far as he could. He paused for a brief moment to seal his mouth over hers before roughly thrusting forward.

Her breath stuttered and her nails dug into his shoulders as he froze.

Mamori buried her face in his neck, and he didn’t move again until he felt the tiniest of nods against his shoulder.

His thrusts were slow and deep, and soon enough her legs were cinched around his waist (she initially had a vague fear of the bike tipping over, but Hiruma didn’t appear concerned so she didn’t bother).

The pressure was building again, so she was startled into a physical cry when he suddenly pulled out.

He reached behind him to grab her ankles, and she had a brief horrifying image of him pushing her knees up to her face before he said harshly, “Turn over.”

She didn’t completely comprehend but moved clumsily anyways, clutching the bike with her knees. Then he entered her from behind, and his hand barely came up in time to muffle her cry.

As soon as she was quiet, his hand dropped and both slid under her shirt and bra, pinching her nipples as he continued to thrust. The feelings were incredible, and eventually she started to push back against him.

Soon they’d settled into a rhythm that snatched her breath away and turned his harsh against her ear. He came first but continued to thrust into her, one hand dropping down to rub against her clit hard enough she followed soon after.

Bonelessly, she slumped against the gas tank, and she could feel his heart hammering against her back.

Unsurprisingly, he’s the first to catch his breath, and she didn’t have to be looking at him to see his smirk as he purred dangerously in her ear: “Guess it’s a good thing I got the leather seat cover after all, eh _fucking_ manager.”

He emphasized the swearword with another thrust before pulling out.

Somehow, her mother knows the minute she walks in the door, but lets her shower and change before sitting her down and having a serious discussion about using birth control and other contraceptives if they’re going to continue to be intimate.

Her mother never tells her how the next day, while Mamori’s gone out with her girlfriends, Hiruma appears on her doorstep, briefly making eye contact with her before dropping his gaze.

He doesn’t say a word, and is startled when she sighs and places her hands on his face, forcing him to look at her.

“Mamori isn’t someone who’ll sleep with just anyone, and the fact that she’s chosen you is something I hope you won’t take advantage of,” she says softly, and receives a curt nod in return.

As Hiruma turns away, he’s already thinking how he can make it right, but if he could have read Mamori’s mind he’d see she doesn’t think he’s done anything wrong.

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End file.
